What Roses Would Have Thorns So Sharp
by Metronome I Hear
Summary: Diarmuid isn't sure why he was summoned, or where he's supposed to go from here, but his little Master is hurting and he'll be damned if he fails again. Rose Potter is just happy she has a new big brother, even if he's a little weird.
1. The Knight and the Girl

Being summoned was like taking a deep breath. It was as if you had been held under water for an eternity, and suddenly you could _breathe_ again. There was a rush of energy, a feeling of certainty, of sureness ( _this is where I'm supposed to be_ ) before the knowledge came and the world settled around you.

Smoke billowed around his form, filling the room, and Diarmuid opened his eyes to gaze upon the one who summoned him, his new Master, his lord ( _he could prove it, his loyalty, he would-_ ) only for his breath to catch in his throat.

" _Help me!"_ A girl, a little girl, screamed out, trapped beneath the form of a hulking fat man with a thick mustache holding her down. The words rung through him like a command seal ( _a what now?_ ) and before he could even really think about it he was moving forward, grasping the shoulders of that man and yanking him back, throwing him across the room. Diarmuid placed himself between the girl ( _his Master? He could feel the flow of mana, giving him shape, giving him from, giving him purpose_ ) and the man.

"Wha-" The man let out a choked sound and looked up from where he lay against the wall of the house they were in. He flushed an angry shade of red as anger flooded his features. "Who are you?!" he shouted out, struggling to get up from the ground. "What are you doing in my home?!"

"Just a knight," Diarmuid responded, "here to save a girl in need."

There was a sound behind him, a desperate sort of sound, and Diarmuid felt through their bond, in some unexplainable fashion, _hope_ shining like the brightest star from the girl he guarded.

The influx of information given to him during his summoning settled in his mind. He felt as if there was less there than there should be, as if there were holes where there should not be, but he ignored it for now. His summoner was who was important right now, and this man before him was trying to hurt her.

"That freak?!" The man bellowed, the red transitioning to an ugly shade of purple. Diarmuid frowned at that denomer (" _Traitor!"_ ) and raised his spears. This man was not a threat to him, not physically, but the girl behind him whimpered at the words and he cannot allow this man to frighten his Master. "Are you one of them?! I'll have you know that this neighborhood was full of good folk, normal folk, until your lot came around and ruined everything with your freakishness! Go! Go! Get out of here! Out of my house! I will not have it! I won't!"

Diarmuid didn't know who "them" was, though he suspected he would find out soon enough. No matter. This place clearly wasn't a welcoming one, and if his Master wished to leave, then they would leave. So Diarmuid frowned at the man and half turned his head back to the girl. "What do you say, my lady?" He smiled at her. "Would you like to leave?"

The girl, who was so frightfully thin and dressed in rags ( _gods, a child should never look that thin, even in the deepest of winters when food is scarce_ ) looked up at him with wide green eyes, so full of hope that it made something in Diarmuid's chest feel tight and painful. She let out a sob as she nodded, not daring to speak, before she rushed forward and threw her arms around Diarmuid's waist.

And so they leave.

…

Diarmuid's summoner sat on a bench in a park not far from the house. They had gotten there by passing numerous other houses that looked exactly the same as the one he was summoned in. Diarmuid had never thought he would ever see so many houses all looking so similar all in one place, one after another. The information he received during their summoning assured him this is not unusual in this new era, but the sight is still disconcerting.

He knelt before his Master and looked up at her. She's so small. Diarmuid guessed she must be six or seven summers old. She's also painfully thin. Red hair curls around her head, the hair cut short. It framed an angry red cut on her forehead, a strange mark that looked like a lightning strike. Green eyes look at him from behind bottleneck glasses, sharp and hopeful and wary all at once. It was not a look that Diarmuid liked seeing on children. Her clothes are but rags, a too large blouse all but hangs off her shoulders, and her skirt looked worn and well cared for, though it stood on its last legs.

"Who are you?" the girl spoke in the silence of the air.

"My name is Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, my lady. Upon your summons, I have come forth."

The girl looked down at her skirt and clenched her fingers in the cloth. "Summons?"

She didn't know? How has she summoned him then? Was there some other arcane force at work here? Diarmuid didn't know much about magic, but he was certain this girl was the one keeping him here. That knowledge rested surely in his mind, and there was no denying the bond supplying him mana that lay between them. Well, he supposed it didn't matter in the end. She summoned him, and therefore she was his Master, and he would serve her faithfully until the day he met his end.

"May I ask your name, my lady?"

The girl nodded. "Rose Potter. My name is Rose Potter."

Rose. The name of his master was Rose. Fitting, for one with hair as red as hers.

He smiled up at her again. "You summoned me from a place very far away, Lady Rose. That means that I am your knight, here to protect you and fight whatever battles you may need me to."

"Protect me?" She whispered. There was hope in that voice, and her eyes watered. She seemed hurt, and small, and scared. In that instance, Diarmuid promised to himself he would not allow her to keep that expression. That he would do his very best to protect her from any and all who would seek her harm, so long as he never had to see her like this again.

"Yes," Diarmuid told her. "Always."

It was a promise he swore to keep.

…

It doesn't take long for them to start running into issues.

Diarmuid is unused to the modern era, and Rose is unfamiliar with how much of it works. Neither of them have anything other than what they're carrying, which is to say, nothing but the clothes off their backs and Diarmuid's two spears. They have no money, no place to stay, and no way of gaining one. If there was a forest nearby, then Diarmuid would be able to hunt them some food and set up a camp for them, but there was nothing but houses as far as the eye could see all around them.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…" Rose muttered to herself, her grip in Diarmuid's hand tight. They've been walking for a good three hours now, and they are no closer to finding a place to stay and something to eat. Diarmuid thought they might be able to beg some food and a room off some inn owners in exchange for work, but that was only if they were able to find an inn in the first place. The world had changed much since Diarmuid's death, and despite the knowledge granted to him during the summoning, he found himself woefully out of his depth when it came to navigating this new era.

To make matters worse, they seemed to be attracting stares everywhere they went. Diarmuid had dismissed his spears, but there was his Love Spot to think about, and he still wore his armor. It stood out like a sore thumb among the clothing the people of the modern era wore. Rose, too, attracted attention, for she did not have shoes.

"On the contrary, my dear. I think it was an excellent idea."

The two turned and in an instant, Rose was pushed behind Diarmuid and Diarmuid was ready to summon Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg to his hands the moment it would prove necessary.

The man who stood before them was an old one, dressed in a fine suit and sporting white hair and red eyes. He smiled at them, humor in his eyes, and raised his hands in surrender. "Peace," he said, "I mean you and yours no harm. I merely come bearing an offer."

"And what offer would one such as yourself have for my lady and I?" Diarmuid asked, curious, though cautious. Behind him, Rose peaked up at the man and lay a hand upon Diarmuid's waist, seeking comfort in the face of the strange man coming up to speak with them.

"An offer of a meal and information," the man said. "My name is Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, Master of the Kaleidoscope. It is a pleasure to meet you both."

 **...**

 **AN: I've been thinking about this one for a while now, and I found it in my docs again, and aaaaagh I shouldn't start another story when I have so many, _but I cant help myself._**

 **Join me in hell, everyone. Join me.**

 **In case you were wondering if the Love Spot is affecting Rose. Yes, it is. The curse has just been interpreted a little creatively since she's really young atm. Instead of sexual and romantic love, it's a platonic love. Instant trust, pretty much. If she was older than she is now, then it would have been romantic. Please note, there will not be a pairing between fem!Harry and Diarmuid. In fact, I have no pairings planned at all! Diarmuid and Rose may fall in love in the future, but it will not be with each other, and it may not happen at all. The circumstances of Diarmuid's summoning are also a bit different, and that will be elaborated on in future chapters. Probably. It may take a while to get there.**

 **I have a Tumblr. Metronomeihear. Come scream with me.**


	2. The Knight and the Goblins

Seated in a restaurant in a city Zelretch called 'London', Diarmuid looked at the old man sat across from him. He was wary of this man. It was only common sense to be so, when a magus with unknown intentions approaches you with an offer… but he was grateful as well. Diarmuid required no food, not like he did when he was alive, but the same could not be said for his Master, and she was so painfully thin. Beside him, his little Master had a plate full of food, and ate it quickly, as if she was certain it would be taken away.

( _There is a part of him that wonders why she acts so, what would drive her to be so cautious when she is so young, and he knows he won't like the answer to that question_ )

Zelretch watched them as he ate his own meal, an odd smile on his face as he did so. Diarmuid did not like that expression, for reasons he cannot quite explain, but he has little choice but to trust this magus not to lead them to harm.

Diarmuid will not stand by if he does, however.

"I take it you like the food?" Zelretch asked Diarmuid's Lady Rose, who peaked up at him hesitantly from behind her bangs. She nodded, and stuffed another forkful of pasta into her mouth, chewing instead of giving a verbal response.

"You said you had information you wished to give us?" Diarmuid asked, because the longer he spent in this man's presence, the more he wished to get away. It was a strange feeling, one that settled in his gut and refused to leave.

Zelretch smiled wider at the question and nodded as if he was waiting for Diarmuid to ask. "Indeed. The first is merely some directions. The other is a piece of advice," he said. "The first thing you need to know is that on Charing Cross Road in this very city, there is a place called The Leaky Cauldron. Ask the bartender for access to Diagon Alley, search for a bank called Gringotts, and I believe you'll find the goblins there most helpful."

Goblins? In a bank? Diarmuid has heard of a number of strange things over the years, but he's never heard of goblins in a bank before now. He was, however, willing to take a leap of faith provided it would get his Master some accommodations for the night. Perhaps they could seek work there, or mayhaps Rose had family connected to the bank. It would certainly be a welcome stroke of luck.

"And the advice?" Diarmuid questioned.

Zelretch's eyes all but screamed mischief. "Only to be wary. Young Rose is a fair bit more well known than you'd think."

Which could mean anything from her being a lost princess far from home, to her being the daughter of infamous criminals. Whether that would bode them ill or well would be seen in the future. He would have to be prepared for either outcome. No matter her origins, Diarmuid had sworn he would protect his Master, and he intended to follow through on that oath.

"I see," he said. "I will keep that in mind."

"Indeed you should," Zelretch said, humor dancing in his voice. "But first, I think, you and the little lady should finish your meals. You've quite the adventure ahead of you."

Diarmuid didn't like the way Zelretch phrased that, but he said nothing. He'd learned he should be grateful for what he'd been given. His loathly lady had taught him that much, when she'd vanished upon his own ungratefulness. Thus he finished his meal, and waited for Rose to finish her own, and then they set on their way.

Zelretch never stopped smiling.

…

Diarmuid stood before The Leaky Cauldron, a tired Lady Rose carried upon his back, and thought The Leaky Cauldron looked rather like something brought out of his home era. It stood out of place from the buildings around it, old fashioned and a bit grimmy, compared to the much taller modern buildings surrounding it. It was this stark contrast that made it all the stranger when none of the people who passed it by gave it so much as a glance.

 _Magic,_ he thought to himself. _It must be._

It was a rather sudden reminder that the magi of this era kept their practice a secret from the common populace, even more than they ever had when Diarmuid was still alive. They'd always been a secretive bunch, but never quite to the extent he was witnessing now.

Rose let out a sleepy murmur, her little hands gripping the cloth of Diarmuid's armor tighter. She was exhausted from all the walking, as well as the events leading to his summoning, and Diarmuid guessed she was only still awake out of pure stubbornness.

He opened the door to the tavern and walked inside. The interior was just as grimmy as the outside, people dotted the tables, hot food and good alcohol before them, and chatter filled the air. Diarmuid had to beat down the nostalgia welling up inside him. He'd once gone to places just like this one with his fellow knights, long ago before he'd ever met Graine.

Diarmuid made his way past the tables and towards the bar near the back. It was tended to by an old man with no hair. "Can I help you?" the bartender asked.

"You can," Diarmuid said. "I was told to ask you for access to Diagon Alley?"

The man nodded easily enough, and made his way out from behind the bar. "First time here, huh? Foreigner?"

"I'm afraid so. I've been rather lost today." An understatement. The modern era was just so _strange._

"I'd believe so. Been told it can be a bit tricky to find this place, but you're here now." The old man lead Diarmuid to the back alley with a dead end behind the bar. The air was thick with magic, however, so Diarmuid assumed there was an illusion of some kind hiding the entrance to the larger Magi settlement. It was just like them to hide their society in layers of trickery.

"Look here," the bartender said, pulling a wand from a pocket in his robes. "See these bricks? You need to tap them with your wand in this order. Pay attention now."

He tapped the bricks, three up and two across, then stepped back to watch as the bricks folded in upon themselves to form an archway instead of a wall. Beyond the archway stood a bustling street filled with stores, some of them only just beginning to close up for the day. They were fantastical places, selling all manner of strange things, with animated signs and buildings standing at odd angles. It was nothing like Diarmuid had ever seen.

"Well, there you go." The bartender said. "Name's Tom, by the way. I offer rooms as well as food, so feel free to stop by and order a room if you haven't one already."

"My thanks. I may just take you up on that offer." Diarmuid bowed his head in a show of gratitude, careful not to bow too low, lest he disturb Rose, who'd finally fallen asleep.

"No problem. It's my job." Tom waved it off and headed back into the tavern. Diarmuid watched him go, and then headed out into the market.

It didn't take long to find Gringotts. It was a large marble multistory building standing at a slant, towering over the buildings around it a fair bit down the street from where Diarmuid entered the market. A pair of short creatures with pointed ears, dressed in scarlet and gold, stood guard at the entrance. Diarmuid could only assume they were the goblins that Zelretch spoke of.

Inside was a large hall, with more goblins sat behind counters. A few magi were present, speaking with one goblin or another, but the hall itself was fairly barren of humans. It was a grand place, with hallways branching off into parts unknown, each guarded by more goblins.

Now, how to go about this? Was he to walk up to a goblin and ask for work? Introduce himself and his Master and hope it went somewhere? Zelretch said the goblins would be helpful, but he'd never specified in what way.

He grimaced. There wasn't any real way to be certain. His best bet was to go up to a goblin and speak with them.

There were many goblins in the hall, ones which stood guard at the entrance to halls leading further in, and more behind the counter, many examining gems and gold and other precious material. Diarmuid choose one of the less irritable looking goblins behind the counter, and walked up to speak with it.

"Good evening, master goblin," Diarmuid said, bowing his head in greeting.

The goblin looked up from where it was examining a large red stone, and raised a brow upon laying its eyes on Diarmuid. It snorted. "A heroic spirit stands before me," it said in a thick, gravely accent. "Carrying a little girl, at that. What brings such a creature to Gringotts?"

A creature. Diarmuid must admit, he's never been called a creature before. A great number of other things, yes, but never _creature._ Nevertheless, he must power on. "My name is Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. I was summoned earlier today by my Master, Lady Rose Potter. A magus calling himself Zelretch told us we'd find the goblins of Gringotts most helpful in our predicament."

The goblin's beady black eyes narrowed. "Rose Potter, you say? And why would the _venerable,_ " it sneered the word, "Rose Potter summon a creature like you?"

"Your guess would be as good as mine, master goblin." Rose stirred a bit over his shoulder. Had she woken up? He hoped not, when she's only just fallen asleep. "I know only that upon my summoning, I found her being held down by a large man. We made our escape, but it left us with little to our name. It was then the Magus Zelretch appeared before us and directed us here. I had hoped you would have work we could do in exchange for some money, or perhaps a place to stay."

The goblin scoffed. "And why on earth would Rose Potter need to work with all the money in her name?"

Before he could respond to that baffling statement, his Master spoke. " 'muid?" She still sounded exhausted, and Diarmuid wished he could give her a proper place to sleep soon, one better than his back.

"Yes, my Lady?"

"Are we done yet?" The question was punctuated with a yawn.

"Not yet, my Lady. I ask that you wait a little longer."

"M'kay…" Rose yawned once more, before falling quiet again.

The goblin watched the exchange with careful, narrowed eyes. "Well?" It questioned.

Diarmuid said, "I must ask what you mean by all the money in her name."

The goblin seemed to judge whether Diarmuid was being serious, and, upon apparently deciding Diarmuid was, it muttered something in a guttural language under its breath.

"The Potters" it began to explain, "are a very old and very rich pureblood family. Rose Potter herself also has had a number of wizards gift her gold and other precious things as thanks for ending their war."

"Ending their war?" Diarmuid asked in bafflement. Zelretch had said Rose was more well known that he'd think, but ending a war? How exactly had she managed to do that?

The goblin grinned, its smile full of sharp teeth, apparently taking amusement in Diarmuid's ignorance. "Indeed. They call her The-Girl-Who-Lived."

This was… definitely not what Diarmuid had expected to find out when he walked into the bank.

"But why?" He asked, before sharply shaking his head. "No. It can wait. Is there any way my Lady and I might access those funds?"

"Do you have a key?" The goblin seemed to take great pleasure in asking a question it already knew the answer to.

"I'm afraid not." Diarmuid ground out.

"Then do you bare proof the girl you carry is actually Rose Potter?" It drawled.

Do not snap at the goblin, Diarmuid. Think of your Master, Diarmuid. "What would you accept as proof?"

The goblin seemed the weigh its words before speaking. "A bit of blood shall suffice. Merely a few drops."

Diarmuid didn't like it. He woke his Master anyways. "Lady Rose? Wake up, Lady Rose, I have need of you."

" 'muid?" Came the sleepy answer. She yawned again. "Need somthin'?"

"Yes, my Lady," he said to her. "The goblin requires a few drops of your blood, as proof of your identity."

Rose's nose scrunched up. "Will it hurt?"

"It will not," said the goblin before Diarmuid could respond.

Rose deliberated for a moment before nodding. "Kay. You can have some."

Diarmuid set Rose down on the ground, and settied her when she stumbled a bit. She stepped forward, and looked up at the goblin behind the counter. "What do I need to do?"

The goblin pulled a piece of parchment and a needle from beneath the counter and laid them upon the table. "I will need to prick your finger," it said. "The spell with take scare of the rest."

Rose nodded and glanced at Diarmuid. He smiled at her encouragingly, and she nervously stuck her hand out for the goblin to take. It pricked her finger with the needle in one quick motion, and allowed the blood to fall on the parchment.

One drop, two. Something written in a language Diarmuid couldn't read spread across the page. Upon reading it, the goblin nodded. "You are indeed Rose Potter. Laggrot!"

Rose startled when the goblin suddenly shouted, shrinking back to clutch at Diarmuid's leg. Diarmuid rubbed a hand soothingly along her back, and watched as another goblin ran forth.

"Yes, Filnar?" the new goblin, Laggrot?, spoke.

"Take Rose Potter and her spirit to the Potter vault."

 **...**

 **I have a tumblr! Metronomeihear. Come scream with me.**


	3. The Knight and the Vault

'Taking Rose Potter and her spirit to the Potter vault' apparently involved being lead down a corridor by a rather grouchy goblin, what was easily the strangest-and fastest-cart ride in Diarmuid's existence, and being shown a room locked behind the most complex lock Diarmuid has ever come across, containing within it more gold than Diarmuid ever thought he would see at one time.

Well then.

The gold was piled impossibly high, and it wasn't just gold present in the vault. Expertly crafted furniture, ancient books and tomes, gems of various colors and sizes, expensive and beautiful jewelry, clothing, armor, weapons… The list went on.

"I-" Diarmuid stammered. "I don't know what to say." Standing wide eyed and far more awake than she had been in the entrance hall of the bank, Lady Rose seemed to agree.

The goblin who'd escorted them, Laggrot, snorted. "Then don't say anything." It sighed. "Currency is valued at 29 Knuts to a Sickle, and 17 Sickles to a Galleon." Then, when Diarmuid and his Master failed to respond, it growled. "Get on with it. You're wasting money."

"I- Yes." Diarmuid gripped Lady Rose's hand tighter in his, and they stepped within the vault. "Well, Lady Rose. It would seem we are not want for coin."

"Uh huh." His lady still seemed to be in shock. Diarmuid did not blame her. Considering the state of her clothing, and the situation in which they had met, this was likely far more than she had ever seen as well.

Diarmuid picked up one of the golden coins and studied it. It sat heavy in his palm, like real solid gold. If he had to guess, this was a 'Galleon', the coin with the most value of the three. He let go of his Master's hand and looked for a bag somewhere among the hoard. It did not take long to find one, and soon he was putting a good sized handful of each kind of coin within the bag. Seeing as he wasn't entirely sure how much each coin was worth, it was good to have a decent sized pool with them.

"Do you see anything you'd like to take, Lady Rose?" He turned to look at his Master. He found her staring up at a what appeared to be an elaborately carved wooden wardrobe, filled with expensive looking dresses colored in red and gold.

She stayed quiet for a moment, not answering, before clenching his hands into a ball. "All of this is mine?" Her voice broke on the last word, and Diarmuid took to a knee next to her.

"It would appear so," he said. He kept his voice soft and soothing. Lady Rose sniffed in answer, seeming to hold back tears.

"All of it?" She asked again, turning to him. Her eyes were watering, and a part of Diarmuid crumbled at that desperate expression.

All at once, he was reminded of the fact his Master wore no shoes, that her clothes were old and worn and handed down. Of how that man had held her down, of how scared she had looked, and how relieved she'd been when he'd rescued her. This was a girl who's never owned anything in her life, never had any sort of luxuries to indulge in from what Diarmuid could tell. A girl who hoarded food when given to her and clung to the first stranger to show her any sort of kindness.

He would protect this girl. He swore it.

"All of it," he confirmed, and tears started falling down her face. She cried silently where she stood, hands balled at her side, and all Diarmuid could do was pull her into his arms like he might have one of his daughters and hold her until those tears ran dry.

…

Rose ended up choosing one of the dresses in the wardrobe to bring with her. It was a summer dress in a shimmering gold with animated green leaves drifting in an unseen wind along the hem. It was only a little too large for her, so Diarmuid didn't think it would be too difficult to have a tailor fix the fitting so she could wear it properly.

Diarmuid also picked up a small ornamental dagger made of good quality steel, easily concealed in the folds of a dress or a skirt, for her to carry around. Now that he had been reminded of it, he couldn't stop thinking about that man holding his Master down; to beat her or something else he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He thought Lady Rose would probably feel safer if she had something to defend herself with, and Diarmuid was plenty capable of teaching her how to wield a dagger.

A simple inquiry was all it took to arrange an appointment the following day to speak of any land Lady Rose owned, and to receive a small golden key that would prevent Lady Rose from having to prick her finger everytime one of them wished to enter her vaults.

With that finished, Diarmuid and his Master departed for the Leaky Cauldron. The sun had set since their descent into the bank, and the sky was dark above them. There were far fewer stars than Diarmuid was used to, and he ached in their absence. Lady Rose rested upon his back once more, her thin arms wrapped around his neck and he face buried into his shoulder. She wasn't asleep, but Diarmuid knew she was exhausted, and they had a long day ahead of them tomorrow. They still needed to get shoes and more clothing for Rose, discuss land holdings with the goblins, and hopefully find a place to stay among whatever Rose owned.

Things were looking up.

They were only a moment or two from the Leaky Cauldron when his Master spoke. "Diarmuid?"

"Yes, Lady Rose?" He shifted her a bit so he could see her more clearly.

"Thank you."

Diarmuid smiled. "It's no issue, Lady Rose. For you, I'd do anything."

Rose buried her face deeper into Diarmuid's shoulder. "Promise?"

"Always."

 **...**

 **AN: Short, I know, but I've been having computer issues recently, and my health's been acting up. I felt it better to give you something than to have you wait for a longer chapter. So I present to you this!**

 **I love these two so much. Can you tell?**


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